


Cohabitation

by TempestRising



Series: Snippets [2]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), The Sims (Video Games)
Genre: Dan and Phil are Gods, Getting Together, M/M, Moving In Together, The Sims 4, Yes this is a Sims story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 06:58:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17095943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TempestRising/pseuds/TempestRising
Summary: Dab stood in the doorway looking a bit foolish, arm flung out, while Evan just looked worriedly over his shoulder. "Wait," Dab said. "You don't like it?"Or: Dab's excited to show Evan the new apartment, but he forgot to ask an important question.





	Cohabitation

**"I mean...look at this. I think we've done a good job. I think they can have a great life. They've definitely spent all of their money and now they've got barely enough to have food for the month, but..."**

**-Boys in the Big City - Dan and Phil Play: Sims 4 #59**

**.***.**

Dab stood in the doorway looking a bit foolish, too-large smile on his face, arm flung out, while Evan just looked worriedly over his shoulder. "Wait," Dab said, lowering his arm. "You don't like it?"

"I don't know what I'm looking at, D." Evan massaged his forehead, between his eyes. "It's a - I like the windows. It's an apartment, Dab. Have we broken in? Is there treasure?"

Evan couldn't shut up about the treasure. One morning they'd woken up in an ancient temple, and there were trials and magic and at the end: treasure, like a video game. And then magically back home, richer, their relationship closer. It was the first time that Evan had agreed with him that there might be something odd going on their lives, some deities intervening. Definitely weird, he'd agreed, leaning against Dab on his couch, in his room that had appeared out of nowhere, staring at the skeleton who'd followed them home.

But this wasn't about that, or about the sudden appearance of Evan's mother's long-lost twin, or about the portal in their backyard, or the way Dalien seemed to have sprung up overnight, no longer a sweet little boy but grown into a trendy teen. Dab's parents dismissed it, saying people always claimed things like this happened overnight when really it had been creeping, a slow tumble of years...

"We're not breaking in." Dab didn't know what to do with his hand anymore, his ta-da presentation not taken the way he'd hoped, and so he put it on the back of his neck. "This is ours."

Evan's eyes lingered on the small kitchen, on the large window, on the TV planted right next to the refrigerator. "When you say ours..."

"We always used to talk about moving here. Remember the day at the museum? When we were kids? We always said..."

"Dab, there's no cabinets - you can't use that microwave. And you know that I'm scared of heights!"

Dab blinked at the window. He loved the window. "The views are nice," he said, timidly.

Again with the massaging of the forehead, as if Dab was just too much to deal with, and Dab could feel himself crumble, just a little bit, hunching forward. He'd been so proud of finding this place. It was a little more expensive than the apartment next door - suspiciously cheap wasn't really a selling point for him - and though, okay, he hadn't really thought about the kitchen, or where to put food once they got it in the house, he thought that Evan would understand that he, as, an artist, needed the windows, the open layout, the views of the trendiest district in the city.

Still, Evan didn't open his eyes. Dab tried to inject enthusiasm into his voice. "Why don't you look at the bedroom? And the bathroom is really amazing."

"The bedroom?"

They hadn't got up to much shenanigans in Dab's bedroom in his parents' house, and there was a strange swoop in his stomach at the thought that this bed would be theirs, and no one else would come into the apartment, and they could lay together and look down at the city and spend the night and the morning - spend the days wrapped around each other, talking about dreams. "You'll love it," Dab promised. This he could deliver on.

"One bedroom?"

That swooping feeling? Gone. Replaced with something like free fall. Evan thought there were two bedrooms? Why would they need two - unless they weren't what Dab had assumed, unless that fundamental tilt in the axis of their relationship that Dab felt when they'd kissed had meant nothing to Evan.

"I thought -" Dab grasped at the things he still understood. "I thought we'd share."

Evan opened the door he was closest to - the bathroom. He shuddered at the sight of the large window there. He shouldered open the next door, Dab following to watch Evan stare at the double-wide bed nestled between more windows. Dab had loved the windows, had sat in the empty apartment (moments ago? days ago? time slipped away from him so easily) and thought about the golden light he could get from the sunsets, the flat grays in the winter...

Evan opened the last door, the one that led back out into the main living space. "One bed," he repeated. His back to Dab, so he couldn't see his expression. "You know, I've sort of gotten used to you making all these decisions. Because it's sort of worked out for us, you know? You get me to go places."

"Like ancient temples."

"But in the future, just putting it out there - " Now Evan turned around, and he wasn't grinning, exactly, but his eyes were bright and dancing. This is the boy who'd followed Dab into an unknown river, who came over in the cold just to build a snowpal. The boy who accepted Dab's strange hybrid alien family with a grin and open arms. "- should these decisions come up in the future, I'd like to be, you know. Asked."

Dab ducked his head. "I knew I was forgetting something."

Evan cleared his throat. It was loud in this brand-new place, this strange new bedroom. Dab remembered picking it out but not furnishing it. _Gods_ , he would have said to Dalien.

Still, Evan seemed to be waiting for something. Dab pursed his lips. Then: "Oh! Oh." He changed his tone to one of mock-importance, trying to keep the thread of hopeful anticipation out of his voice. "Evan Pancakes, would you like to move in with me?"

"And...?"

"And...and share a room. And, you know. A bed. And get used to heights cuz there's a lot of windows."

Evan had his hands on his hips, looking exasperated but in a particular fond way, an expression he saved, it seemed, just for Dab. "Oh, whatever. Sure. Sure!"

"You could be a little more enthusiastic," Dab pointed out. "I got you a bathtub and everything."

There was city light streaming through the windows onto a painting Dab did not remember buying, and there was a fridge with some food that Dab wasn't sure he'd ever eaten before, and Evan was standing there in a tank top with that body and that smile and those eyes that looked at Dab like he might just be the sun.

Or maybe Dab was projecting, because all this change, the leaving, the moving, his own bed and bedroom and shower and too-small kitchen, seemed to much easier with Evan as a steady presence at his side. Evan to be there when the things appeared out of thin air, to look at as their lives were propelled along by invisible hands, at dizzying speeds. Evan to nod when Dab asked, looking at the ceiling above their bed: "Do you believe in gods?"

"Sure," Evan would say. He wouldn't be looking at the ceiling, or the view. He'd be looking at Dab. "I sort of have to, right? Benevolent gods." He would nudge his body against Dab's, a little thrill of electricity between them. "They brought me to you."


End file.
